


The Land is Oz

by Iron



Category: Oz: The Great and Powerful (2013)
Genre: Gen, Kinda Weird, but hopefully coherent, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is the land, and the land is ancient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He dreams of rolling lands, red flowers and black skies that go one forever. 

There is a kind woman who rules over the smallest of the land, and a brave, kind King who is her father. A green city ( _impossible_ , some part of his mind says, sensible and bland and beige, _that anything could be so green_ ) 

But not so for him. Because when he dreams, he does not see with his eyes – for every breath he takes a wind is born, and his hair becomes the grass, the soil his skin, the mountains every crease and fold of his clothes. His eyes are the blue of the sky, and his tears fill the oceans. He is the land, the sea and the sky, without borders or limitations or end. (when he wakes up there is too much in too little, and behind child-eyes is the cruelty of nature, and he cannot love because the earth cannot love, lust, because the sky cannot touch and the earth cannot move and the ocean cannot care and _where would his heart be anyways, in stone or cloud or ice?_ )

He is the land, and the land is ancient. 

In the morning Oz slips away like warmth in the snow, and all that is left is the impression of _big_. He is left empty where there should be an entire world in his bones flesh skin hair eyes breath, a million billion lives all equal and all gone because they were never there at all. 

And Oscar is left wondering why he looks in his mother's eyes and feels nothing. 

_there is more power in names than even magic can control_ , whispers the Kansas hurricanes in his dreams, **_little wizard_ ******


	2. Chapter 2

His first breath stirs the wind over dry Kansas fields. In a rush of blood and screams he comes into a world, encased in flesh and _emotion_. 

Crammed under baby-pink skin is an entire world, ripped torn shred to pieces and brought back in human form. 

**the land want the land took the land could not should not leave**

**the land is a lad is a boy is gone**

They name him Oscar. 

(His first day of school, when they call his name, he say _call me Oz,_ and smiles like the snow on the Knells. _i like Oz_ and that is the end of that)

And he is a good boy, a nice boy, but he is a boy who is always looking to the West and East and whispers, so beseechingly, _everything is grey. where is the red and the purple and the green and the yellow? **everything is grey**_. 

He speaks, and he touches, and it is like, if you do not look too close, under his clever hands color is born. But he can not see the trick, only the mechanics, and everything to his eyes that should be blue like the sky (that should be the sky) there is only grey. (People come for the tricks and stay for the color, because they have only ever seen grey grey grey and for only a second if they can see _green_ they will feel wonder)

No one is surprised when he runs away with the circus. 

(he is human and he is not and he feels too much in all the wrong ways because _he was never meant to be human in the first place_ and there was never enough will never be enough room in the world for a little boy with mountains in his bones and an ocean in his chest and fields plowed deep in his arms)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 is here :]


	3. Chapter 3

The first girl he kisses has lipstick like roses and wax and a mouth that tastes like hot sweet things, Halloween candy and tea. Her hands are soft and petting and he touches her and he imagines what the other boys talk about. The rivers under his skin don't roar, the lava-manga heat cradled under his breast does not heat. He feels nothing but the physicality of it, her body and her mouth and her tongue. 

She's grey and he can't understand anything but the fact that her lipstick is sticking to his teeth and her dress is catching on his callouses and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it and he knows he can't say anything because if he doesn't he's queer and he knows what happens to fags in Kansas. 

He lets her kiss him and doesn't do a single thing. Her grey invades his mouth and slithers down his throat and sours his stomach and he doesn't say a _thing_. 

When the other lads ask him how it was, patting his back and laughing, he pitches his voice to their and lets all that grey slither on out and they carve lies in the dusty air. He feels sick. He doesn't feel anything. 

For weeks he dreams of nothing but roaring storms, wave battered continents and skies that do not let the sun shine through. Oz storms and Oscar lets it bleed out from behind his eyes and says nothing, ties it down and sinks it until he spins himself out and there's nothing left. 

He kisses his next girl and this time he's better at pretending.

**Author's Note:**

> A series of snapshot, a couple hundred words long. 
> 
> I don't know if anyone has tried this before? 
> 
> And, as always, I will lovingly pet and squee over any comment given :3


End file.
